Sun-day?

The white stuff is back. I went to visit some friends this morning. They had some items to throw out and I wanted to be sure I keep my hauling skills sharp. Just in case. So I showed up on their doorstep at 9 a.m. They had me in for some coffee and some rich, tasty coffee cake with nuts and glazed sugar crumbles. Given the opportunity of taking or leaving coffee cake, I'll usually leave it. This was different. The only time I left it was to go back into the kitchen and warm up my coffee. Even after that I found my fingers wandering back to the plate to pick at the crumbs.

Eventually we faced the inevitable task of tossing the refuse onto the truck. We had waited patiently--enjoying conversation, coffee, and the aforementioned baked delight--but in all that time not one person had knocked on the door to ask if they could unlock the garage and load the truck for us. Slackers.

Taking shovel in hand, we cleared the front walk and part of the driveway. It was all going too smoothly. Somebody had to act before this day went too well to warrant comment. In a decisive stroke of inspired idiocy I locked the keys in the truck. Lest you confuse me with an incomplete imbecile, I'll make a confession. The engine was running. But wait. This drama deservces a better stage. The snow was turning to rain.

Have I introduced you to my friend Bill? He is a very talented Web page designer and artist. He is also handy. He takes old homes, sees the beauty in them, and coaxes it out. He writes wonderfully (see www.billdugan.com), has a delightfully cynical edge at times, and loves Macintosh computers. He has an International Scout in the driveway and two slim jims in his car trunk. I love Bill.

Had you been driving down Frederick Road on Sunday morning, you would have seen some interesting sights: snow and ice glazing every available surface; other fools like yourself trying to drive in perilous conditions; and and two miserable men flanking a big red truck, apparently trying to subdue it with long, flat strips of metal. Silly men.

Bill came through. He was first to unlock the door and gain entry to the nice, warm truck. I happily climbed in and backed down the driveway. It seem to take little time at all to load. Then the fun began. Music!

Bill has amassed an impressive collection of songs. We perused them and selected those that would be conducive to concentrating at work. Not only does Bill have the music, he knows it thoroughly. He could tell me which were the better albums, who had influenced the artists, and which titles to avoid. I came away with a happily sated iPod and an irritated wife.

You see, today is Fruitcake Day. And before we can make the fruitcakes, we have to shop for ingredients. Add to that the desire of my mother-in-law to get an early start and you can see that arriving at 3 p.m. is putting my wife--and by extension, me--under some pressure.

I admit I was not much help shopping. I dropped the girls at the door and parked the truck--with the engine running AND me inside. I just sat there watching the wipers going back and forth. Hypnotic. Phlap-phlop. Phlap-phlop. You see, one takes one's relaxation where one may. I listened to my new tunes while I waited (see how quickly I assumed ownership? MY tunes.)

Several uneventful, stree-free minutes later we were underway to the birthplace of incredible fruitcakes. Don't get ideas. I mean the kind you eat. To my knowledge nobody has been born in that house.

Katie stirred the batter. Joan filled the loaf pans. Katie arranged the dried fruit. I put the batter on top. We loaded the oven, I shoveled the drive and walkway and we came home.

Now, a little popcorn, a little movie, and it's time to call it a day.